


The train going north

by Damsel_in_shining_armour



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damsel_in_shining_armour/pseuds/Damsel_in_shining_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The met on a train going north. It sounds romantic and yet it wasn’t.<br/>The only thing that made Merlin carry on was holding Arthur’s hand at night, the two of them sharing hope even when there was none left.</p><p>Set in Germany, 1945.<br/>Rating is mature for the theme and the setting.<br/>Warnings: violence, abuses, racism but no graphic descriptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The train going north

The met on a train going north. It sounds romantic and yet it wasn’t.

In normal conditions Merlin would have been embarrassed of his state: unwashed trousers, dirty hair and foul-smelling, but those weren’t normal conditions and he couldn’t be bothered to care about these details.  
And yet Arthur managed to look proud and noble, next to him, even in his ragged clothes and dirty blonde hair.   
They didn’t talk at first, but when Merlin broke his piece of bread in two and gave half to him, Arthur thanked him with a deep grateful voice and that led to occasional smiles and awkward glances for the next four hours.   
One would think that at that point everyone had more pressing matters on their minds than the gorgeous stranger they were sitting next to, but Merlin had always tried to find the positive thing to focus upon, even in difficult situations.   
“Uhm... I’m Merlin.” he blurted out, out of the blue, while passing a jug of water. He was half expecting to get punched, but Arthur just looked curiously at him, held out his hand, took the jug and said “Arthur Pendragon” like he was fucking introducing himself to the Pope.   
They talked quietly about beautiful things and not at all about the present, looking straight ahead but sitting shoulder to shoulder and Merlin could swear that the point where their jackets touched was warmer than anywhere else in that wagon.   
When the train finally stopped, Arthur found his hand, suddenly, and squeezed it hard and dry for a couple of seconds, before letting go. 

 

In the events that followed they were separated, of course, and Merlin could not see Arthur anywhere next to him in line, but it wasn’t like he could properly look and so he kept his head up and stared into the void.   
It turned out to be a positive fact, as when the groups were made all people standing next to each other were divided, families separated and friends parted - often forever even though they probably didn’t know this yet, just suspected.  
Arthur and Merlin stared at each other in shock and fleeting relief when they found out that they were in the same dormitory. It wasn’t much, but it was somehow enough. It had to be.

  
  


They managed to get places one next to the other in the same bunk with three other people and they slept with their heads close, even though they didn’t dare to touch one another in any way.

  
  
“What did you do?” Merlin asked one day, while they were getting into beds, one of the few blessed moments when they weren’t in a goddamn line or out in the open.  
“Passed a great deal of information to the americans” he said with a toneless voice, as if he were commenting the weather.  
Merlin draw a quiet but surprised breath. “A spy. Everyone thinks you’re a deserter, seeing your...” and he pointed at the red inverted triangle on Arthur's chest.  
“Everyone?”  
“I talk to people. When I manage.”  
“You don’t talk to me.”  
“It seems more dangerous when I’m with you.” and it sounded incredibly like an admission.  
They lay down and lowered their voices.  
“Pink triangle?” Arthur asked.  
“I didn’t molest any child or woman, if you’re asking.” Merlin replied.   
“No one thinks you did.” Arthur conceded, quietly.   
  
That night they held hands, hiding them under their bodies to resemble a natural position, even when they were numb for the lack of circulation.

 

That winter Merlin thought he was going to die twice, but he miraculously didn’t. By march, however, his bones were practically sticking out of his skin and he knew he wasn’t going to survive much longer. The only thing that made him carry on was holding Arthur’s hand at night, the two of them sharing hope even when there was none left and whispering promises of a better future and mutual help.

 

And of course Arthur had to be the one organising the escape.  
“No one ever breaks out from these places, Arthur! No one.” Merlin hissed, worriedly, when he heard the plan for the first time.   
“How would you know?”  
“Have you ever heard of prisoners who got out of here?”  
“Do you think they’re going around bragging loudly on how they made it? Of course you don’t hear them, if they’re smart enough to get out of here they’re also smart enough to disappear afterwards.”   
Merlin thought he had a point, but it was still too dangerous.   
“I’m afraid Arthur. Running... it’s success or death.”  
“Yes.” the blonde man replied, looking at him seriously in the eyes “And staying is just death.”   
A loud barked order interrupted the conversation, but Merlin was already convinced.

 

They planned every detail and by the 3th of April they had everyone ready. Spring wasn’t there yet, but they were running towards it.   
Arthur even managed to do a little speech, thanks to a carefully planned diversion outside the bunkhouse and he had all his men around him like a king.  
Merlin looked at Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan, Mordred and Lancelot and wondered if he was ever going to see all of them alive, after that night.   
They were ready and this was their only chance.   
  
Mordred and Lancelot sneaked out in the dark and closed the doors behind them. Everyone held their breaths, but no noise came.   
One by one, waiting one minute each, they peeked out of the door and ran, ran for their lives along the walls, in the dark.   
Merlin was going to be the last one and Arthur was just before him.   
No one knew at the moment what went wrong, but suddenly all the lights in the courtyard were turned on, people in uniforms came running from everywhere and Merlin could not run anymore.   
He stood on the wrong side of the fence, now in full light, and for a second he couldn’t do anything but stare at Arthur, already on the other side.   
Arthur looked like he was going to scream. “Merlin” he hissed urgently instead, desperate “Merlin, climb, Merlin, hurry! The gap is up here!”   
But they both knew that it wasn’t an option any longer for him. Merlin could just hope to mix with the shadows and run towards the bunkhouse again, as the guards were only seconds away.   
“Go, Arthur” he replied, retreating “Run! Save yourself, please, run!”  
Arthur looked crazy and Merlin knew that he wasn’t going to do it until Merlin himself disappeared. He turned his back and hurried away -sticking to the wall- and vanished behind a corner. He thought he heard Arthur say “I’m coming back for you! I swear I’m coming back!” but he was probably just his imagination and his stupid hope.

  
  
He was lucky, in a sense, _so_ lucky, because the only reason no one noticed him was that the general attention had been captivated by someone else. That someone else being Mordred, kneeling in the middle of the courtyard and screaming, between sobs and terrified hiccups “I swear, I swear they went that way! I swear I wasn’t the only one, please, I told you, I told you...”   
Merlin could barely keep himself from screaming when the gun fired, he ran into the dormitory, threw himself on his bunk, trembling and bit his closed first so hard it drew blood.

 

The day after was hell, obviously, but Merlin had been expecting it. They hit him so hard he lost consciousness three times and they just left him there, slumped against the wall, until he came round after many hours and dragged himself into the dormitory only to faint again.   
  
When he woke up the camp was upside down. Merlin looked, astonished, while people were being called outside their bunkhouses at the break of dawn, gathered in groups and dragged away. He didn’t know where they were bringing them, but he heard faint whispers of evacuation marches and dread settled on his soul more firmly that it had ever done until that moment.  
He was alone, Arthur was gone and hopefully safe, somewhere out there, but he wasn’t strong enough for a march, not in that cold and not in his shape.   
In a bizarre turn of events, now his only hope to survive was to stay in the camp and to stay as hidden as possible.   
He was changed of bunkhouse and put with some inmates who looked almost more desperate than him.

 

  
“You, we need you to help us. It’s matter of life and death. Can you do it?” asked him three days later a guy he didn’t know the name of.  
Merlin scoffed “Everything is a matter of life and death here. If you mean to steal some food from the kitchens, forget about it.”  
It earned him a smack on the head and he was left alone, until another guy came crouching next to him and said “We’re going to call for help. It’s our only chance, now or never. Come with us, help us!”  
And how could Merlin say no, when the only thing still linking him to Arthur was the courage he had left?  
The day after, at noon, he was keeping guard outside of the prisoner’s movie room, coughing loudly now and then, trying to cover the noises of the transmitter being used inside.   
A few short beeps, some long ones... he regretted never learning Morse code.   
And then, after a long and tense half an hour, the first guy who had asked his help came next to him and poked him in the ribs with an elbow. “They are coming. Hold on, my friend. They are coming.”  
He had tears in his eyes. The second guy was lying on the floor, inside. “He fainted”. the first one explained.

 

They returned to the bunkhouses and another nameless man came short after. He talked briefly to the two guys and they nodded, looking determined.   
The first one turned to Merlin and said “My friend, we are going to get our freedom.”

 

That day and the following ones, Merlin felt like his body didn’t belong to him anymore. He didn’t feel pain, he didn’t feel the cold bites of starvation, while he bandaged with what he could the other inmates and fellow prisoners, running from one dormitory to the other and helping everyone out.   
The Resistance had stormed the watchtowers, most of the guards were dead, the allies were coming. He kept repeating those sentences in his head, fearing that if he forgot even for one second, everything would have turned out to be just a dream.  
If only his body weren’t failing him from time to time, he would have thought this a delirium and nothing more.

 

When the Americans came, on April 11, at 3.15 PM, he was first in line to welcome them.

 

When a familiar body hugged him, in the middle of the confusion and the relief and the tears, murmuring his name over and over, Merlin felt he was going to explode, because his frail skin could not contain his joy, his love, his hope.   
“I told you I was coming back. I promised. I promised” Arthur kept repeating, while Merlin peppered his blonde head with kisses and weeped.

They were going home. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was painful to write. All historical events and dates are real.  
> The concentration camp is Buchenwald, in Germany, I hope I didn't make any major historical mistake, but I am certain that there must be some inaccuracies here and there. 
> 
> Thanks for reading ♥


End file.
